What to do When A Dominatrix is Sick
by i-love-svu
Summary: Yep, the title says it all. Heather is sick and Gil takes care of her. GrissomHeather oneshot


"Mr. Grissom! Lovely to see you again," A young woman greeted Gil as he entered the dominion. She had a touch of an accent, southern perhaps, and she was one of the friendly employees. "Unfortanetly, Lady Heather has instructed me not to allow anyone to see her."

Gil raised one brow, his investigative side beginning to take action. "Did she happen to mention why?"

The woman twirled a piece of her shoulder length blonde hair between her fingers, discreetly trying to decide what to tell him. "No. No, she didn't."

Gil felt bad that he couldn't remember the girl's name, but continued the questioning anyway. He hoped to find out why Heather didn't want any guests and to make sure that she was okay.

"When did you see her last?"

"Last night," The blond replied almost immediately. She stopped twirling her hair for a moment as she gathered the details. "She acted like something was wrong, but wouldn't tell me what. Maybe I should go check on her." She started to exit the room but Gil held out his hand to stop her.

"No," He softly smiled, "That's okay. I'd be happy to see how she's doing."

The girl grinned back before going about her business. Gil knew the way to Heather's personal quarters from past experience, and began the treck up the three flights of stairs with a quiet sigh.

"Heather?" Gil called out as he knocked on the door. When no answer came, he opened the door and entered. He looked around her office with a silly grin upon his face; The masks and other various tools used during sessions were on display, just a few things strategically placed around the room. It was all fascinating to him, every last detail. Heather often found it humorous how intriging and interesting he found most things.

His mind sprang back to the task at hand; Finding Heather. Gil strode past the large stone fireplace to the door that led to Heather's bedroom. He knocked three times and still no answer could be heard. He slowly pushed the door open.

"Heather?"

The room was completely dark. Gil had never seen such a darkness in his life. He felt around the wall to his right until his fingers struck the light switch. A light came on in the far corner of the room; just enough light to make the furniture even slightly visible. As his eyes scanned the room from left to right, he finally saw her.

Heather was lying in the center of the bed, right arm draped over her stomach; legs straight out, hanging over the edge of the bed. As Gil neared her, he saw more.

Her normally shining brown hair was damp and sticking to her neck and pale cheeks. A bit of sweat was visible on her forehead, what he gathered to be the result of a fever.

Gil became alarmed as he stood at the edge of the bed, attemping to figure out what to do. "Heather?" He asked in a louder voice.

He pondered for a moment, thoughts racing through his mind. He outstretched his left arm and placed his hand on her forehead. A moment passed before he pulled back. She felt like she was on fire. Gil quickly went into the bathroom, got a wash cloth wet with warm water, then went back to Heather and placed the cool cloth on her forehead.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully watching Heather. He was surprised when she suddenly awoke with a soft groan. She slowly opened her eyes but didn't move. Gil saw how glassy her eyes looked and knew right away that she wasn't well.

"Heather, are you okay?"

She coughed softly before answering. "I'm sick." Her voice was raspy and hard to recongize. It was not the voice Gil knew.

"I can see that." He stroked her cold hand. She almost winced as his warm skin collided with her cold palm. "Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm thirsty." Heather quietly told him.

Gil nodded quickly as he stood up and took off to find something for her to drink. He ran, literally ran, to the kitchen Upon reaching his destination, he spotted a box of tea bags sitting on the counter, almost as if they were just waiting for him.

"Perfect!" Gil thought. He prepared a cup of tea, not adding any sugar. He spun around with the cup in his hand to find Heather standing in the doorway with a thin blanket wrapped around her.

"You shouldn't be out of bed, honey." Gil winced as the last word left his lips. He knew from experience how much Heather hated being called a nickname. But given her current condition, it was difficult to call her just by her given name. Much to his surprise, she didn't seem to notice.

"I wanted some soup." Heather coughed quietly, each cough burning her throat more than the last. "And I'm cold."

"Let's get you back up to bed. I will make you some soup, okay?"

Heather nodded in agreement. The blanket slid off of her shoulders as she reached out and grabbed the wall to keep her from falling. Gil rushed forward to where she was standing, her fingers white from her grip on the wall. Without hesitating he pulled her into his arms and began carrying her up the stairs.

Almost a flight up, Heather moaned softly. Gil paused on the landing of the stairs to check on her.

"Heather?"

Her head remained resting upon his shoulder; She raised her eyes to look at him. "Gil," She smiled weekly. "When did you get here?"

He cocked his head to the side and after just a moment realized that she was delusional. Supressing his unappropriate laughter, he bent his head down, pressing his cheek against her forehead. It appeared that her fever had gone up instead of down.

"You're burning up," Gil whispered mostly to himself. Heather groaned and Gil took that to mean she agreed with him.

Back in Heather's room, Gil had placed on the bed. While he was an extremely intelligent man, he had never dealt with a sick person before and was unsure of what to do next. He strode to the doorway, pulling his cell phone out of his pants pocket.

"I'll be right back," He told the sleeping woman. With a sigh he dialed a familar number and waited for the person to answer.

"Willows." Catherine sleepily yawned into the phone.

"Catherine, sorry to wake you but I need your help."

"This had better be good. What's up?"

Gil rubbed the back of his neck. He knew Catherine would either be happy that he was at Heather's, or she'd be pissed off at his lousy sense of timing. "I'm at Heather's. I came to check on her and she's sick." He briefly paused to allow her to let that sink into her brain. "She has a high fever and I don't know what to do to bring it down."

Catherine smiled into the phone. _"Yes!"_ She thought. _"It's about damn time he's over at her place!"_ She shook her head to bring herself back to the present. "Fill the bathtub and put her in it. Don't let her drown or anything. Keep your eye on her. But that should do it."

Gil swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Catherine sighed. _He called her for help and then doubted her instructions. Just like a man," _She thought. "If you need anything else just call."

She hung up, leaving Gil gripping his phone so tightly his fingers felt ready to explode. Another swallow and he slipped the phone back into his pocket, then returned into the room.

"Alight, Heather. Let's get rid of that fever," He sighed.

The bath had been drawn, the water tempature had been checked several times to make sure it was just right. The only thing missing from the scene was Heather. The brunette was still sleeping on her bed, exactly where Gil had left her. Even though he didn't want to wake her, he knew he had to get her fever down.

Gil exited the bathroom, walking slowly back into Heather's bedroom. He picked her up once again as he had earlier, taking her into the bathroom.

"Heather, wake up." His voice was soft but she had heard him. Once she was fully awake, Gil gently set her down, his hand staying on her waist to ensure that she would remain standing up.

"What's going on?" She inquired, rubbing at her eyes.

"You have a fever. Taking a bath would help it go down. Are you okay with that?" Gil brushed the hair out of her face, exposing her porcelain skin and green eyes. She nodded as she walked away from him to the bathtub.

Gil fixed his eyes on the marble tiled floor as she undressed. Yes, he had seen her naked before. But she was sick and he didn't feel right watching her. As Heather relaxed in the bathtub, he sat down on the floor.

"Comfortable?" He inquired with a smile.

"Yes, very. Thank you." Heather grinned back.

She stayed in the bathtub for about twenty minutes, until the water became cold. "Gil? Would you please get me my bathrobe? It's on the back of the door."

Gil stood up from the floor and pulled the black silk bathrobe off of the door, then took it over to Heather. She stood up, water dripping off of her body, and slipped the robe on. With a smile she walked out of the bathroom, into her bedroom, and sat on the bed.

"I remember when Zoe was little, I'd sing to her when she was sick. She always loved it; I'd lay in her bed with her and sing to her until she fell asleep." Heather turned back the covers on her bed, crawling into them with a small grin. She began to hum 'Moon River', a song by Andy Williams. Gil raised one brow as he looked at her.

"Zoe's favorite movie was Breakfast at Tiffany's. Even as a child she would beg me to watch it with her." Heather smiled up at him.

Gil slowly kicked off his shoes and walked around to the other side of the bed. He sat on the edge, then swung his legs onto the bed and lay down next to Heather. She looked just as confused as he had a moment ago.

"What are you doing?" She inquired.

"Well, I know that I don't like to be alone when I'm sick, which doesn't happen very often. But when I am, I like to have someone near me. I just figured you're the same way." Gil hoped his assumption wasn't wrong. "Is this okay?"

Heather nodded quickly. She slowly moved closer to Gil, resting her head upon his shoulder. "Yes. It's fine." With a quick smile up at him, she pulled the blankets tighter around her shivering body. Gil used his free arm to help.

"Gil?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"It's no problem, Heather," Gil replied as he stroked her hair. "It's no problem at all."


End file.
